Horti Fair 2007
For decades, the international horticultural year would start in the beginning of November, at the time of the 'Bloemenvaktentoonstelling' at the Aalsmeer flower auction. Every important national or international player in the flower and plant business would come to this world's biggest building in surface of which a large section would then be reserved for this exhibition where the latest of the latest in terms of varieties or technical developments could be found for four days, ending each night at around 1 am in a huge traffic jam on the parking roof.
The new year for vegetables and techniques would start a few months later, in Bleiswijk, some 30 kilometres further to the west. It would take generations of committees to join the two shows in one location, the RAI exhibition center in Amsterdam. No better for traffic.
This year no promotion of new varieties for me, but a tour of rose breeders to explain my new mission and see how they would react. Not a single breeder really understood what my course implied. Of course they all had the perfect varieties for consumer brands, but their minds were all set on hectares of plants, traditional royalty. With one exception: David Austin Roses, present for the first time with a stand. They have a successful history in garden roses, set up the 'English Rose' as a brand. Better marketeers than breeders. When I was with De Ruiter's we set up a collaboration in which we gave them varieties and advice to set up a cutrose breeding program and, in return, we would market their varieties. Apparently, they had discontinued the relationship, had set up a cultivation program with a Dutch grower and were now marketing the flowers on an exclusive basis. Perfect idea, but, as I learnt, the varieties were not perfect yet.
I was approached by the people of Florimex, big international wholesalers, ahead of the rest of the pack in looking for exclusive products, who had heard of my business and wanted to become the exclusive buyers of the product for Europe. Nice, but not fitting my strategy for the time being. Nevertheless, we agreed, we would get into touch once the production had started. They were looking at importing 40 and 50 cm, whereas my intention was to set up a brand for 60-70 cm. Good to know ...
donderdag 25 december 2008
A Rose Story - 5. Seedy
Five: Seedy
It was not easy to find a successor for Father Dré as far as his breeding activities concerned. His son Dré Junior had all the knowledge, but lacked the creativity, ambition and leadership qualities to manage the team of six working in the greenhouse and the various selectors coming in regularly and all finding their selections the best. After a year of presenting candidates, the headhunter that was hired for the job introduced Klaus van Winkel. In the belief that creative persons are eccentric and this one also fitting in the budget, Klaus was hired. Greasy hair, thick stained glasses, two alternating lumberjack shirts, no matter what temperature, and permanent slippers could be lived with. But the endless discussions and stubbornness in the end proved too much for the selectors. Klaus had an opinion on anything. In fact, some of his ideas were brilliant, but he lacked tact and the right persuasiveness to get them across.
Klaus spent nine years at the Agricultural University in Wageningen, but never graduated. His prime interest was with the University bar, which he ran as a barkeeper. He skipped early morning classes, but his professors did not mind. In his absence they could make progress with the curriculum.
His greenhouse team loved him. “Fucking, fucking, fucking all day,” he would shout through the greenhouse. “I am the luckiest person on earth. I made my hobby into my work. Long live the seeds! Fucking all day!” And even in his spare time he would be pollinating in the little mess of a glasshouse behind his little terrace house. He would regularly bring in results of his homely experiments: white cucumbers and yellow tomatoes, lacking the right taste or filled with pips.
His wife Sien, re-named ‘red’ Sien to prevent confusion with Mother Sien, was easy, very easy, raising their three children single handedly. Their eldest daughter was crippled at birth and had been in and out of hospitals for the first thirteen years of her life. Therefore Klaus’ salary demands were modest: he wished to stay within the limits of the healthcare system.
Before long, ‘Seedy Klaus’ or simply ‘Seedy’ would be collecting rose varieties and seeds from any place he would visit, professionally or privately, Seedy made no difference between hobby and work.
Father Dré, Uncle Piet, Maurice and Sjef formally acted as the company’s management, but in fact, Sjef ruled. Sjef also considered himself an artist and therefore Seedy was allowed ten per cent room in the breeding program for experimentation. For the remaining ninety per cent Seedy was surprisingly obedient. When instructed to focus on intermediate varieties with slim, tall heads, to allow for a higher packing rate for African and Latin producers, two years later in spring they would come out in the seedlings. Seedy and Junior were a perfect couple. Junior did not say much, but was a walking database for varieties and variety characteristics and kept one at the same time in piles of scribblers, using pencil and eraser in the breeding tradition. Father Dré had always followed his instincts in breeding and his mood in selecting, but fortunately, Junior had always kept track of all the crossings and results.
To recuperate the market position in the pot roses, Seedy was instructed to produce seedlings that had bright colors, a minimum of five flowers per plant, making a total of fifteen per pot of three plants, that would slowly open at the consumers’ and last for two weeks. It had taken Father Dré some fifteen years to get from triploid to diploid in miniature roses, at the time essential to make the next step in the breeding, but it only took Seedy and Junior two years to come up with the first of the Perfecta® series. He was not instructed that these varieties should also be easy to produce on a large mechanized scale. One Danish producer managed, but our own Pot Rose Division in De Kwakel was unable to come up with a decent product, so, in the end, the Perfecta® line never got beyond two varieties. Likewise, the slim headed intermediates never caught on, as big, round headed varieties became fashionable. The commercial selectors complained a lot about the breeding, as nothing ever came out that they could sell.
To widen this gap between the two disciplines, Seedy would only show his experimental program to colleagues he could get along with. As these seedlings would not be in Sections IV or V, but in a tunnel further down the land, this activity was literally outside the view and vision of the management. Sometimes, on a Friday afternoon, with the traditional case of weekend beer emptied by the greenhouse boys, Peli usually taking half, Seedy would take me to the tunnel.
After several visits, I would learn to see through the mess and find varieties. Seedy seemed to be very keen on some wild varieties that would only flower every other year and a collection of what he called “moss roses”. These had beautiful colors and flower shapes, but were completely covered in thorns, from head to toe. The top prickles were soft and a little sticky when touched and left a nice smell on the finger tops. The other thorns were horrendous. I could not see any use for these other than the sado masochistic market. “I want to lay you down in a bed of roses” came to my head, but for sure John Bon Jovi did not write his ballad for masochists. However, the line is followed by “for tonight I sleep on a bed of nails”.
It was not easy to find a successor for Father Dré as far as his breeding activities concerned. His son Dré Junior had all the knowledge, but lacked the creativity, ambition and leadership qualities to manage the team of six working in the greenhouse and the various selectors coming in regularly and all finding their selections the best. After a year of presenting candidates, the headhunter that was hired for the job introduced Klaus van Winkel. In the belief that creative persons are eccentric and this one also fitting in the budget, Klaus was hired. Greasy hair, thick stained glasses, two alternating lumberjack shirts, no matter what temperature, and permanent slippers could be lived with. But the endless discussions and stubbornness in the end proved too much for the selectors. Klaus had an opinion on anything. In fact, some of his ideas were brilliant, but he lacked tact and the right persuasiveness to get them across.
Klaus spent nine years at the Agricultural University in Wageningen, but never graduated. His prime interest was with the University bar, which he ran as a barkeeper. He skipped early morning classes, but his professors did not mind. In his absence they could make progress with the curriculum.
His greenhouse team loved him. “Fucking, fucking, fucking all day,” he would shout through the greenhouse. “I am the luckiest person on earth. I made my hobby into my work. Long live the seeds! Fucking all day!” And even in his spare time he would be pollinating in the little mess of a glasshouse behind his little terrace house. He would regularly bring in results of his homely experiments: white cucumbers and yellow tomatoes, lacking the right taste or filled with pips.
His wife Sien, re-named ‘red’ Sien to prevent confusion with Mother Sien, was easy, very easy, raising their three children single handedly. Their eldest daughter was crippled at birth and had been in and out of hospitals for the first thirteen years of her life. Therefore Klaus’ salary demands were modest: he wished to stay within the limits of the healthcare system.
Before long, ‘Seedy Klaus’ or simply ‘Seedy’ would be collecting rose varieties and seeds from any place he would visit, professionally or privately, Seedy made no difference between hobby and work.
Father Dré, Uncle Piet, Maurice and Sjef formally acted as the company’s management, but in fact, Sjef ruled. Sjef also considered himself an artist and therefore Seedy was allowed ten per cent room in the breeding program for experimentation. For the remaining ninety per cent Seedy was surprisingly obedient. When instructed to focus on intermediate varieties with slim, tall heads, to allow for a higher packing rate for African and Latin producers, two years later in spring they would come out in the seedlings. Seedy and Junior were a perfect couple. Junior did not say much, but was a walking database for varieties and variety characteristics and kept one at the same time in piles of scribblers, using pencil and eraser in the breeding tradition. Father Dré had always followed his instincts in breeding and his mood in selecting, but fortunately, Junior had always kept track of all the crossings and results.
To recuperate the market position in the pot roses, Seedy was instructed to produce seedlings that had bright colors, a minimum of five flowers per plant, making a total of fifteen per pot of three plants, that would slowly open at the consumers’ and last for two weeks. It had taken Father Dré some fifteen years to get from triploid to diploid in miniature roses, at the time essential to make the next step in the breeding, but it only took Seedy and Junior two years to come up with the first of the Perfecta® series. He was not instructed that these varieties should also be easy to produce on a large mechanized scale. One Danish producer managed, but our own Pot Rose Division in De Kwakel was unable to come up with a decent product, so, in the end, the Perfecta® line never got beyond two varieties. Likewise, the slim headed intermediates never caught on, as big, round headed varieties became fashionable. The commercial selectors complained a lot about the breeding, as nothing ever came out that they could sell.
To widen this gap between the two disciplines, Seedy would only show his experimental program to colleagues he could get along with. As these seedlings would not be in Sections IV or V, but in a tunnel further down the land, this activity was literally outside the view and vision of the management. Sometimes, on a Friday afternoon, with the traditional case of weekend beer emptied by the greenhouse boys, Peli usually taking half, Seedy would take me to the tunnel.
After several visits, I would learn to see through the mess and find varieties. Seedy seemed to be very keen on some wild varieties that would only flower every other year and a collection of what he called “moss roses”. These had beautiful colors and flower shapes, but were completely covered in thorns, from head to toe. The top prickles were soft and a little sticky when touched and left a nice smell on the finger tops. The other thorns were horrendous. I could not see any use for these other than the sado masochistic market. “I want to lay you down in a bed of roses” came to my head, but for sure John Bon Jovi did not write his ballad for masochists. However, the line is followed by “for tonight I sleep on a bed of nails”.
maandag 22 december 2008
TRUE. today
Just had the annual Christmas dinner of my wife's employer. Good food, as always, and nice people. But the best came before and after. Arriving fairly late, we ran into one of the invitees, talked about the lurking recession (which did not worry him, having saved a little and rather offered opportunities) before he politely inquired about my activities. He was visibly surprised by my ambition and perseverence in combination with my age. Several hours later, after thanking the hosts for the evening and wishing them happy holidays, he came to see me again. He held my hand firmly for it seemed minutes, the other on my shoulder and told me that my story stayed on his mind during all seven courses, that he was truly impressed and offered me his support if I needed 'a push' any time in the future.
In the course of the evening my mystery friend had said the same to my wife, who knew him and told me that he was listed in the Dutch Quote 100. Merry Christmas!
I thought about the option of a third party investor. I will continue to run my own course, but it sure feels good to know there is a spectator prepared to push.
In the course of the evening my mystery friend had said the same to my wife, who knew him and told me that he was listed in the Dutch Quote 100. Merry Christmas!
I thought about the option of a third party investor. I will continue to run my own course, but it sure feels good to know there is a spectator prepared to push.
zondag 14 december 2008
TRUE. today
Combining teaching and branding is a little more complicated than anticipated. On Thursday afternoon (Nov. 27) I left the Scala College at the end of the afternoon, embarking the Interliner bus to catch flight Delta 39 the next morning, changing onto Delta 311 in Atlanta and arrived by taxi at the Bogota hotel 22 hours after leaving home. 33 Hours later I set off for the reverse trip, stepping out of the Interliner next to the Scala College Monday morning at 8.45 a.m., in time to continue teaching at 9.10 a.m. Feeling like a zombie that long Monday and being hit badly by 'the man with the hammer', as we say in Dutch, at the end of the week. Not until today have I found some time to inform the TRUE. followers. Just for being with Excellence for one day. Was it worth it? Absolutely.
When working for Preesman, I would disagree with the owner, Pim, who argued that such a trip can only be effective if you would stay for more than ten days. Now, in 12 hours, we looked into the details of the cultivation, harvesting, farm logistics, grading, bunching, packing, cooling and transport of the roses and also relaxed at Pablo's new house near the fire place and dinner table with his wife Andrea and son Pablo Jr, enjoying Pablo's baby beef and wine. A TRUE. day. 
I could not wait to get into the greenhouse to see the plants. No, after the drive from the centre of Bogota to the farm in El Rosal first the traditional coffee in the office, where we were joined by Luis Ernesto. He brought in the rain chart of this year. Normally, Bogota has 2-3 month periods with rain, followed by similar periods of drought. This year, rain since April, meaning too much moisture in the greenhouses, postharvest, flower boxes, with spores of botrytis all around.
These spores become visible after transport, so after arriving with the florist, or even later, with the consumer. The brown spots will give brown petals, rotting flowers and often stems, causing flower heads to fall off. So, something to fight in the cultivation by spraying and after harvesting by submerging in a special bath. For this, good biological products are available and used, but giving residu on the foliage. Harmless, yet looking dirty.
From a competitive point of view, if a concern for Excellence, this was a major problem for the rest of the Savanna. Still, TRUE. flowers must be spotless and, being harvested with flowers more open than others, more susceptible. After this introduction and two mugs of coffee and cookies, time to go and have a look. The bridge from the office took us to a platform in the postharvest in which the workers were just starting their twice-daily yoga lessons for back, arms and shoulders. This is where the botrytis and vaselife tests are carried out for each shipment and each variety, overlooked by Amanda from her little office. The vase of Da Vinci Rose looked the best of all, alle flowers fully open. Yet, closer inspection showed bits of botrytis here and there. Not good enough. Not TRUE.
Finally, we entered the house with the plants.
Beautiful. I was impressed.
Next, the female supervisor for the cultivation was fetched to discuss the botrytis issue. She suggested we put in small heating lamps, as they did with other varieties that were susceptible. We went to see some of the houses of these varieties, some of them notorious for botrytis, and, indeed, perfect. Next week the lamps would be installed.
Onto the postharvest. From the beds to the building I observed all activities with flowers in detail. More so than I had ever done in visiting flower farms for more than fifteen years. Roses and Blooms had informed me, complete with pictures, that the last box of flowers had arrived with them in Manhattan in damaged condition and my conclusion from the description and the pictures was that there had been excess damage of the foliage (handling and packing) and shifting of the flowers in the box (packing? transport?).
The potential TRUE. flowers were brought in from the cooler, carefully graded and then made into a bunch by the lady supervisor of the postharvest under the eyes of Pablo, Luis Ernesto, German and myself. The finished bunch was then proudly presented to me by the Excellence management. "Okay, can I now be a New York florist, receiving the flowers?" Upon which I carefully opened the bunch, taking out all protective packing materials, then showing the flowers one by one. The proud looks turned into shocked faces. Only 4 out of 20 flowers had foliage that was sufficiently intact. Another bunch, made earlier was fetched out of the cooler and opened with the same results. It could be that the leaves of this variety were more fragile than others. Therefore a bunch of their top variety Freedom was dissembled. Likewise.
Having had the same experience a year ago in Ecuador, I had already seen what went wrong in the bunching. Whereas everybody was focused on the arrangement of the flower heads and the bunch as a whole, I had seen, that stems were added to the bunch without paying attention to the foliage. The leaves of a rose are positioned slightly upward, but when the head is put on the other heads, most of the time the flower is moved upward a little bit, so that the leaves fold back slightly, to break when the stems are pressed down.
First proud ...
... then worried
You could see them thinking: "Why did we never notice? Why didn't our clients tell us? But then, why do we get such good prices? We must also be doing sufficiently right, then." I explained, that their operation was set to their clients, being wholesalers in the U.S.A., Europe and Russia. Wholesalers buy flowers per box and judge them per bunch. If by chance they put flowers in a vase, they always do so per bunch. Excellence bunches are excellent. But TRUE. roses are judged by perfection and sold per stem. Florists also sell other varieties per stem, but because their voices are seldom heard and this is the way it has always been, they just search for a good one in a bunch or cover up the absent foliage.
Their confidence restored, they instantly picked up the challenge and by the end of the afternoon German and Luis Ernesto reappeared with the plan to build a special cart in which the flowers are to be hung during harvesting (so not putting them on top of each other) and training a few ladies to do the bunching (with extra care to the foliage) in the greenhouse, thus minimizing the handling. Great to see that, despite each being in charge of his own section of the process, they tackle problems from a shared responsibility.
In the meantime we had installed the Verdict program for the dataloggers to be used in transport had brainstormed about the quality of the boxes, different transport possibilities and the wish to replace the current little lead seal on each flower by something more environment friendly. More homework, en route to perfection.
donderdag 13 november 2008
TRUE. today
Long time no blog. Shame on me, also because the blog helps to keep my dream alive, just like reading my grandfather's autobiography or listening to U2's One (with Mary J Blige).
On 1 November we had the second test shipment from Colombia into Manhattan. It had been 10 weeks since the first and again the quality was insufficient: not harvested open enough, the flowers were small and foliage damaged and dirty. Shit.
Yesterday Excellence's Amanda announced they would have another three boxes for the coming weekend. "Get in touch with Luis Ernesto, he knows about the problems of the last shipment. When he is confident, send them, but also try to send me a box in Holland," I wrote her. Earlier in the week I had called Pablo to arrange a visit. At the time with Qualisa in Ecuador this was the only way to persuade them to go against their routine of harvesting too tight flowers. Physical presence remains the most effective communication.
I had checked the air fares and both in timetable and cost Delta was the best option. A day later, when I booked, the choice remained the best, only the ticket had had an overnight price increase of 25%. Shit again.
When I took on my part-time (80%) teaching job, I kept the Fridays free for blitz trips like this: flying out of Amsterdam on Friday morning (November 18th), via Atlanta, arriving in Bogota late in the evening. Saturday to visit the farm: look at the crop, especially 'punte de corte', the cutting stage, handling (foliage!) in the greenhouse and the postharvest, and packing. Then instruct on the use of the TRUE. seals for each flower, install the program for the dataloggers, all in Spanish. Dinner and talks with Pablo. Sleep, perchance to dream and up early to go the airport, arriving in Amsterdam Monday morning at 8.10 am. Then on a bus to Scala College in Alphen to teach at 9.10 am. Make sure my lessons are prepared beforehand and that my bicycle is in place there, since I will be teaching at different locations that day.
Tight schedule? Idiot? Or rather: to be or not to be TRUE.
And, yes, I will do a series of lessons on Hamlet.
On 1 November we had the second test shipment from Colombia into Manhattan. It had been 10 weeks since the first and again the quality was insufficient: not harvested open enough, the flowers were small and foliage damaged and dirty. Shit.
Yesterday Excellence's Amanda announced they would have another three boxes for the coming weekend. "Get in touch with Luis Ernesto, he knows about the problems of the last shipment. When he is confident, send them, but also try to send me a box in Holland," I wrote her. Earlier in the week I had called Pablo to arrange a visit. At the time with Qualisa in Ecuador this was the only way to persuade them to go against their routine of harvesting too tight flowers. Physical presence remains the most effective communication.
I had checked the air fares and both in timetable and cost Delta was the best option. A day later, when I booked, the choice remained the best, only the ticket had had an overnight price increase of 25%. Shit again.
When I took on my part-time (80%) teaching job, I kept the Fridays free for blitz trips like this: flying out of Amsterdam on Friday morning (November 18th), via Atlanta, arriving in Bogota late in the evening. Saturday to visit the farm: look at the crop, especially 'punte de corte', the cutting stage, handling (foliage!) in the greenhouse and the postharvest, and packing. Then instruct on the use of the TRUE. seals for each flower, install the program for the dataloggers, all in Spanish. Dinner and talks with Pablo. Sleep, perchance to dream and up early to go the airport, arriving in Amsterdam Monday morning at 8.10 am. Then on a bus to Scala College in Alphen to teach at 9.10 am. Make sure my lessons are prepared beforehand and that my bicycle is in place there, since I will be teaching at different locations that day.
Tight schedule? Idiot? Or rather: to be or not to be TRUE.
And, yes, I will do a series of lessons on Hamlet.
donderdag 2 oktober 2008
TRUE. today
Just as I was preparing to go to Colombia next week to finally find out the status of the production, Luis Ernesto calmed my nerves, telling me that things are looking good: the first 10 beds of plants getting in production (some 200 flowers per week) in the second half of November and the other 30 beds at Valentine's.
Expected weekly production then: 800 TRUE. roses. For New York only we expect to need some 5 times this amount.
Well, we need to start somewhere and after such a long runway this will give us the quality take-off we have been waiting for.
Even more reassuring were the photos Luis Ernesto sent: a nice healthy crop and no blackening of the flowers at all!
vrijdag 19 september 2008
TRUE. today
Excellence's first box made it from El Rosal (Colombia) into Roses and Blooms (Manhattan). In the 'normal' flower world there would never be any feedback, unless the customer refuses to pay the bill. With TRUE. a whole list of deficiencies was to be expected. We're dealing with a nature product and aiming for perfection. Unheard of in the floral industry.
Jan informed me that the flowers had been cut too tight to be TRUE. , but otherwise they had been bunched and packed properly.
They had been cut at the 'Russian stage', which is more a little more open than 'American' and far more open than 'Dutch'. Shame on the industry of which I have been part for some 20 years and my family for at least five generations. No attention whatsoever for the consumer. Sure enough, European traders want fresh looking flowers (tight buds) and Russian wholesalers want size (open without looking too ripe), but stacks of research reports show that flowers perform best in the vase when they have collected enough sugars, being in the final stages on the plant.
Besides giving the impression of being ripe, open flowers are damaged more easily during transport and handling and are more susceptible to botrytis. Open flowers collect more moisture and may rot. If harvested at exactly the right stage and packed in the right temperature and air humidity controlled conditions, TRUE. roses will not have this. But this is very difficult and takes a lot of patience and professionalism. The experts of Excellence will manage. And I? The waiting drives me crazy, especially when Jan says that he still has customers walking in his beautiful store asking for TRUE. roses.
Jan informed me that the flowers had been cut too tight to be TRUE. , but otherwise they had been bunched and packed properly.
They had been cut at the 'Russian stage', which is more a little more open than 'American' and far more open than 'Dutch'. Shame on the industry of which I have been part for some 20 years and my family for at least five generations. No attention whatsoever for the consumer. Sure enough, European traders want fresh looking flowers (tight buds) and Russian wholesalers want size (open without looking too ripe), but stacks of research reports show that flowers perform best in the vase when they have collected enough sugars, being in the final stages on the plant.
Besides giving the impression of being ripe, open flowers are damaged more easily during transport and handling and are more susceptible to botrytis. Open flowers collect more moisture and may rot. If harvested at exactly the right stage and packed in the right temperature and air humidity controlled conditions, TRUE. roses will not have this. But this is very difficult and takes a lot of patience and professionalism. The experts of Excellence will manage. And I? The waiting drives me crazy, especially when Jan says that he still has customers walking in his beautiful store asking for TRUE. roses.
woensdag 27 augustus 2008
A Rose Story - Preface
Preface
… and on the seventh day, relaxing in the ozone filtered sunlight, feet in the crystal blue ocean, Jesus’ nikes by his side, He set mankind a challenge by creating a few rosebushes. Thousands of years we have worshipped the flowers, only to be disappointed. The spur of the moment.
‘My love is like a red, red rose’: temptation in optima forma, but prickly when touched and wilting after a few days. A loveless one night stand.
Expensive and falling apart shortly after Valentine’s, rather than making a lasting impression. “Thanks for the flowers, Fred, do you want to come in for a night cap?” Later, Fred banging at the door after having been kicked out.
“Hi Fred, it’s Wilma again, I just came walking in after spending the week at my mum’s. Fred, your roses, they’re still fantastic! Why don’t you come and have a look? I’ll change into something more suitable in the meantime.” The ultimate dream.
Come true.
The time has come to show the Creator that, although it has taken a while, His humble creations have met His challenge.
The cutflower rose is a Renaissance invention, completed in the transition period of the unique old boys’ world of rose breeding into ruthless price competition, infringements of rights, fraud and bankruptcy of old family businesses. Creativity struggling with money. Some weird old breeder goes under in this struggle, but leaves a secret rose seedling, a code, the embodiment of ultimate beauty, the Holy Rose Grail. Strangely, there is little fiction in the story. The rose is the proof.
TRUE. come true.
No Guts, No Glory. No Rose, No Story.
… and on the seventh day, relaxing in the ozone filtered sunlight, feet in the crystal blue ocean, Jesus’ nikes by his side, He set mankind a challenge by creating a few rosebushes. Thousands of years we have worshipped the flowers, only to be disappointed. The spur of the moment.
‘My love is like a red, red rose’: temptation in optima forma, but prickly when touched and wilting after a few days. A loveless one night stand.
Expensive and falling apart shortly after Valentine’s, rather than making a lasting impression. “Thanks for the flowers, Fred, do you want to come in for a night cap?” Later, Fred banging at the door after having been kicked out.
“Hi Fred, it’s Wilma again, I just came walking in after spending the week at my mum’s. Fred, your roses, they’re still fantastic! Why don’t you come and have a look? I’ll change into something more suitable in the meantime.” The ultimate dream.
Come true.
The time has come to show the Creator that, although it has taken a while, His humble creations have met His challenge.
The cutflower rose is a Renaissance invention, completed in the transition period of the unique old boys’ world of rose breeding into ruthless price competition, infringements of rights, fraud and bankruptcy of old family businesses. Creativity struggling with money. Some weird old breeder goes under in this struggle, but leaves a secret rose seedling, a code, the embodiment of ultimate beauty, the Holy Rose Grail. Strangely, there is little fiction in the story. The rose is the proof.
TRUE. come true.
No Guts, No Glory. No Rose, No Story.
TRUE. today
In a few hours the first flowers of Da Vinci Rose from Excellence will be delivered with Roses and Blooms in Manhattan. Everybody involved is really anxious to learn if they are TRUE.
They were packed at the Bogota farm last Friday under the supervision of Hans of FlorControl, quality experts on behalf of the TRUE. label. Transport and distribution have been organized by Janny of Flower Import Services in New Jersey. For this, Janny works with AllPlants who, in turn, makes use of Flower Transfer in Miami. Flower Transfer flies the flowers into JFK, New York, from which they are picked up by Delaware Wholesale. Delaware trucks them (refrigerated), with their other flowers in the consignment, into their warehouses in Sewell, NJ, from which Janny picks them up for delivery to Roses And Blooms.
Much too complicated, as far as I am concerned, although a much shorter supply chain than customary for Latin flowers. Something to be worked on once we see that Excellence's quality is TRUE. But if you read 'the TRUE. story' in this blog, the history of my quest, you will understand my doubts with today's route. One thing I have learned: true revolution doesn't happen overnight. Neither does TRUE. revolution.
They were packed at the Bogota farm last Friday under the supervision of Hans of FlorControl, quality experts on behalf of the TRUE. label. Transport and distribution have been organized by Janny of Flower Import Services in New Jersey. For this, Janny works with AllPlants who, in turn, makes use of Flower Transfer in Miami. Flower Transfer flies the flowers into JFK, New York, from which they are picked up by Delaware Wholesale. Delaware trucks them (refrigerated), with their other flowers in the consignment, into their warehouses in Sewell, NJ, from which Janny picks them up for delivery to Roses And Blooms.
Much too complicated, as far as I am concerned, although a much shorter supply chain than customary for Latin flowers. Something to be worked on once we see that Excellence's quality is TRUE. But if you read 'the TRUE. story' in this blog, the history of my quest, you will understand my doubts with today's route. One thing I have learned: true revolution doesn't happen overnight. Neither does TRUE. revolution.
maandag 11 augustus 2008
TRUE. today
A week ago Gerco of Van der Deijl Roses called again: two more TRUE. boxes with flowers had arrived in Noordwijk. "Probably bad again and a waste of time and gas to pick them up," I thought, but agreed to collect them later that day.
It would be a nice opportunity to show my visiting Canadian friend Burke and his family what I was doing. After visiting my parents, Burke, his wife Irene and I found the boxes in the impressive cold rooms in the new Van der Deijl premises. Arriving home in time to entertain the next guests, Wilma and her husband Nico, I quickly unpacked the flowers and put them in water. They looked pretty good, but killer botrytis spores were present without doubt.
Burke kept on taking pictures, convinced that he was witness of the turnaround in Qualisa's quality struggle that would set me off to New York to prepare the florists for the TRUE. invasion. I was more reserved, ready for more disappointment. The next days, much to Burke's thrill, the flowers opened nicely, looking good. I emailed Walter to find out if this was a turnaround or just an exception.
Peter van der Deijl's reply came just after Burke had returned to Toronto. Qualisa had decided to stop the production of Da Vinci Rose. They were unable to produce the TRUE. quality needed. He still believed in the marketing concept and was willing to invest in it if I would change to using existing commercial varieties. We had had this discussion before and I had challenged him to send me flowers of varieties that could be guaranteed to open and last. He had sent some. They all failed.
Now, patience again. Wait for Excellence's TRUE. roses.
It would be a nice opportunity to show my visiting Canadian friend Burke and his family what I was doing. After visiting my parents, Burke, his wife Irene and I found the boxes in the impressive cold rooms in the new Van der Deijl premises. Arriving home in time to entertain the next guests, Wilma and her husband Nico, I quickly unpacked the flowers and put them in water. They looked pretty good, but killer botrytis spores were present without doubt.
Burke kept on taking pictures, convinced that he was witness of the turnaround in Qualisa's quality struggle that would set me off to New York to prepare the florists for the TRUE. invasion. I was more reserved, ready for more disappointment. The next days, much to Burke's thrill, the flowers opened nicely, looking good. I emailed Walter to find out if this was a turnaround or just an exception.
Peter van der Deijl's reply came just after Burke had returned to Toronto. Qualisa had decided to stop the production of Da Vinci Rose. They were unable to produce the TRUE. quality needed. He still believed in the marketing concept and was willing to invest in it if I would change to using existing commercial varieties. We had had this discussion before and I had challenged him to send me flowers of varieties that could be guaranteed to open and last. He had sent some. They all failed.
Now, patience again. Wait for Excellence's TRUE. roses.
woensdag 30 juli 2008
the TRUE. story
12-19 September 2006: enthusiasm on the Andes
A first trip to Colombia and Ecuador without having to report to a boss. I had visited the region some dozen times since 1992 and for the first time I included a touristic weekend. You can call it loyalty or stupidity. Anyway, my friend Bert Lamerichs was my private guide.
In 1994 I persuaded Bert and his wife Hinke to emigrate to Ecuador. I worked for De Ruiter's New Roses at the time and wanted to set up breeding facilities in Ecuador. Hinke, breeder by origin, would work for us and Bert became the general manager of Hilsea Investments, owned by Peter Ullrich, where we had our greenhouses.
Bert and I visited the traditial Indian market, a last piece of rainforest, a new shopping mall and spent the night in an old monastery. I really managed to put business aside and enjoy these two days.
Then my budding business again: the plants were growing well at Ipanema and Qualisa. Everybody involved was enthusiastic. I presented the Da Vinci Rose plan to Moises, general manager and co-owner of Ipanema. His only objection was the royalty element (as I anticipated, knowing he was a Jew and I Dutch). At this time, I suggested a double royalty in return for exclusivity and a price of $ 1.00 per stem (some three times the regular price). This way I could support my cash flow. Later I would abandon this idea, which was a last element from the traditional rose marketing system.
I also met with Jos Langeslag, another Dutchman in the region, who had emigrated with his partner Karen d'Hont to set up FlorControl, specialists in postharvest quality control and also representing the environment label MPS. Being active in both Colombia and Ecuador, FlorControl could carry out the controls on the production side for me. I had already prepared the technical specifications, which FlorControl needed to complete in collaboration with both farms. Jos instantly was 'in', with compensation yet to be worked out.
A first trip to Colombia and Ecuador without having to report to a boss. I had visited the region some dozen times since 1992 and for the first time I included a touristic weekend. You can call it loyalty or stupidity. Anyway, my friend Bert Lamerichs was my private guide.
In 1994 I persuaded Bert and his wife Hinke to emigrate to Ecuador. I worked for De Ruiter's New Roses at the time and wanted to set up breeding facilities in Ecuador. Hinke, breeder by origin, would work for us and Bert became the general manager of Hilsea Investments, owned by Peter Ullrich, where we had our greenhouses.
Bert and I visited the traditial Indian market, a last piece of rainforest, a new shopping mall and spent the night in an old monastery. I really managed to put business aside and enjoy these two days.
Then my budding business again: the plants were growing well at Ipanema and Qualisa. Everybody involved was enthusiastic. I presented the Da Vinci Rose plan to Moises, general manager and co-owner of Ipanema. His only objection was the royalty element (as I anticipated, knowing he was a Jew and I Dutch). At this time, I suggested a double royalty in return for exclusivity and a price of $ 1.00 per stem (some three times the regular price). This way I could support my cash flow. Later I would abandon this idea, which was a last element from the traditional rose marketing system.
I also met with Jos Langeslag, another Dutchman in the region, who had emigrated with his partner Karen d'Hont to set up FlorControl, specialists in postharvest quality control and also representing the environment label MPS. Being active in both Colombia and Ecuador, FlorControl could carry out the controls on the production side for me. I had already prepared the technical specifications, which FlorControl needed to complete in collaboration with both farms. Jos instantly was 'in', with compensation yet to be worked out.
donderdag 17 juli 2008
the TRUE. story
September 2006: the home front
My parents, Pap (my father-in-law) and my buddy Peter all receive a flower from the plants still present in the Preesman greenhouse. All are enthusiastic, although the flower heads are much smaller than TRUE. will be. Ludmilla, a top lawyer of Bulgarian descent, helps me out with the legal issues, at no charge. It is good to have TRUE. friends.
My parents, Pap (my father-in-law) and my buddy Peter all receive a flower from the plants still present in the Preesman greenhouse. All are enthusiastic, although the flower heads are much smaller than TRUE. will be. Ludmilla, a top lawyer of Bulgarian descent, helps me out with the legal issues, at no charge. It is good to have TRUE. friends.
TRUE. today
Time to send out a TRUE. update to all those involved: Excellence, Qualisa, FlorControl, Galegos & Neidl, Verdict, Import Flower Services, KesselsKramer, Tjep., Thomas, Roses and Blooms, Floralies, Elizabeth Ryan ... Here is the email:
this rose challenges your patience. TRUE.
Traditionally, reds are grown in Colombia and not in Ecuador. For nearly two years Qualisa has struggled to produce TRUE. roses in Cayambe (Ecuador), with ups and downs. Presently, there again is a down in spite of all the technical efforts, investments and creativity. The Ecuadorian climate and UV seem not to be tamed. 1 September next will be the go/no go date here.
Excellence Roses in Colombia, on the other hand, continues to be excited and amazed with the flower quality, lasting for three weeks in the vase. They expect to start shipping in several weeks. Their production will be a few boxes per week until November/December, when the numbers will be at least tripled.
After having shipped from Quito through Miami to New York for a few months, we came to the conclusion that, although TRUE. roses can easily stand the length of the journey, the damage inflicted by the handling is not fit for such an exclusive product. Therefore, we have started to fly the boxes in directly. Maximum freshness, minimum handling (but extra cost). Import Flower Services (New Jersey) is taking care of this.
The TRUE. display, packing and other PR materials are still in the Delaware Valley warehouse, waiting for a new distributor. We are searching.
We have received a sample of a TRUE. dozen-gift box (in addition to the box for the single rose). This will need some changes.
We have received the second series of samples for the golden thorn, looking nice, but not perfect yet.
We will start working with the latest version of the Verdict data logger system, enabling us to monitor transport conditions of each shipment through the internet.
The TRUE. launch, in collaboration with Capricious magazine and New York press, will be postponed to next winter, when Excellence gets into full production. Until that time, only Roses and Blooms, Floralies and Elizabeth Ryan can be served.
Roses and Blooms has been selling TRUE. roses for nearly a year now and the proof of the pudding is in the eating: customers come back for more. Two weeks ago part of a movie was shot in the store, with celebrities such as Kim Raven, Lindsay Price and Brooke Shields present. Luckily, some boxes of TRUE. roses came in, were sent out and each recipient called back later, TRUE.ly impressed.
It has been a long, tough quest so far, but step by step we get there.
this rose makes a lasting impression, whether you want it or not. TRUE.
this rose challenges your patience. TRUE.
Traditionally, reds are grown in Colombia and not in Ecuador. For nearly two years Qualisa has struggled to produce TRUE. roses in Cayambe (Ecuador), with ups and downs. Presently, there again is a down in spite of all the technical efforts, investments and creativity. The Ecuadorian climate and UV seem not to be tamed. 1 September next will be the go/no go date here.
Excellence Roses in Colombia, on the other hand, continues to be excited and amazed with the flower quality, lasting for three weeks in the vase. They expect to start shipping in several weeks. Their production will be a few boxes per week until November/December, when the numbers will be at least tripled.
After having shipped from Quito through Miami to New York for a few months, we came to the conclusion that, although TRUE. roses can easily stand the length of the journey, the damage inflicted by the handling is not fit for such an exclusive product. Therefore, we have started to fly the boxes in directly. Maximum freshness, minimum handling (but extra cost). Import Flower Services (New Jersey) is taking care of this.
The TRUE. display, packing and other PR materials are still in the Delaware Valley warehouse, waiting for a new distributor. We are searching.
We have received a sample of a TRUE. dozen-gift box (in addition to the box for the single rose). This will need some changes.
We have received the second series of samples for the golden thorn, looking nice, but not perfect yet.
We will start working with the latest version of the Verdict data logger system, enabling us to monitor transport conditions of each shipment through the internet.
The TRUE. launch, in collaboration with Capricious magazine and New York press, will be postponed to next winter, when Excellence gets into full production. Until that time, only Roses and Blooms, Floralies and Elizabeth Ryan can be served.
Roses and Blooms has been selling TRUE. roses for nearly a year now and the proof of the pudding is in the eating: customers come back for more. Two weeks ago part of a movie was shot in the store, with celebrities such as Kim Raven, Lindsay Price and Brooke Shields present. Luckily, some boxes of TRUE. roses came in, were sent out and each recipient called back later, TRUE.ly impressed.
It has been a long, tough quest so far, but step by step we get there.
this rose makes a lasting impression, whether you want it or not. TRUE.
TRUE. today
Spoke to Pablo on the phone. The plants of Da Vinci Rose (variety name, only perfect flowers are TRUE.) are growing well and after all branches had been cut off to make new plants, the plants started to flower again. Pablo had flowers in his house, lasting 3 weeks.
This made my day, month, year. His excitement recharges my nearly empty battery.
Here they are, the three of them, Pablo, Luis Ernesto,TRUE.:
This made my day, month, year. His excitement recharges my nearly empty battery.
Here they are, the three of them, Pablo, Luis Ernesto,TRUE.:
donderdag 10 juli 2008
A Rose Story - 4. The Twins
Four: the twins
Amsterdam, The Hague and Rotterdam are slowly urbanizing the west of The Netherlands, grabbing bits and pieces of the remaining rural area in their centre: the ‘green heart of Holland’. The Boskoop district forms part of these lungs, with its traditional shrub growing industry. For generations, families carrying their own individual nicknames, have manually worked long stretches of land, 25 meters wide, 400 meters long, surrounded by canals with water levels controlled by windmills. Picturesque, but slowly disappearing by economics, environmental legislation and housing. Benthuizen is part of this district, seeing fruit trees and strawberries after having been pumped dry as polders at the end of the middle ages, surviving turf-for-fuel digging in the following decades, to specialize in rose bushes in the beginning of the twentieth century.
Grandpa Pieter left the Boskoop nursery he worked for, lent some money from an uncle and started his own rose business in 1917, moving his family of nine from a small terrace house to his newly built house at the head of his land in 1932. Changing crops temporarily to potatoes and wheat, the family survived the famines of World War II. After the liberation, roses were put back in and Grandpa Pieter started looking for mutations, new colors that would spontaneously appear in varieties. Shortly after, he started his own pollination, collecting seeds hips, sowing the seeds after winter and selecting seedlings in spring and summer. The breeding had started. His twin sons took over the business in 1962 after a family meeting in which price and payment conditions were decided. The same procedure was followed in 1970, when Father Dré took over the house after Grandpa Pieter’s death. His wife Aaltje had already passed away in 1959. Uncle Piet also wanted to have the parental house, but, with Father Dré being older by a few minutes, he then built his house at the opposite end of the property.
Grandpa Pieter’s orange Deo Volente (1929) and red Hollandia (1961) can still be found in rosaries all over the world. His motto “work differently, think differently and act differently, but work hard” was regularly mentioned, but never adhered to. Office hours were stuck to at all times, even around 1981, when the company was virtually bankrupt. At that period, the twins and their cousin, management assistant Maurice, would be looking out the window, waiting for a potential client or the postman to arrive, hopefully with a cheque. Maurice would then walk out to collect the mail from the box, bring it in, open the envelopes and pass the pile to Father Dré. Father Dré would read everything, put it back in the envelopes and pass it on to Uncle Piet, who would repeat the action. With Maurice, the pattern came full cycle, after which he would distribute the relevant mail to the three pigeon holes for further handling. Letters that were complicated to handle would travel from one pigeon hole to the other to end up, after time went by, in somebody’s drawer.
When I arrived on the scene, the post ritual was adjusted: I would come in after Uncle Piet. At that time, fax had already made its way into the business world and, although they were mighty proud to have this piece of machinery, it degraded the ritual by allowing the more important matters in at random hours. Fax messages would be picked up and put back on the machine if its content begged attention. Maurice would then hole them after some time.
Maurice handled the bookkeeping and cherished the occasional consumer that stopped by to buy a few rose plants. He would walk with them to the far end of the land, to come back after half an hour with some cash that was put away in the little safe behind the portrait of Grandpa Pieter in the little meeting room, whose principal function was to contain all prizes won at competitions over the years. Mrs. Hassefras would come two extra days per year to polish all the medals.
Father Dré truly hated consumers and refused to see them, even if he was the only one present in the office. Every Monday he would complain about consumers ringing the doorbell of his house after having found the office closed on Saturday. Every Monday Maurice would reply that those terrible consumers saved them ten years earlier, enough to have Father Dré shut up.
Father Dré took over the breeding job from his father, Uncle Piet the domestic sales. Since Father Dré spoke German and English and liked combining business and holiday, he also looked after exports. Twice per year he would drive to Finland to take the orders. In the mid eighties, when Witte de Wit’s made its way into the greenhouse market with cut roses and miniature pot roses, Uncle Piet looked after the contacts with the professional propagators: half year old bushes were then made in Limburg and stentlings in specialized greenhouses. Still, Witte de Wit’s were a proud member of V.R.V., Vereniging van Rozen Vermeerderaars, the association of Dutch rose propagators that controlled the business.
V.R.V. organized open houses, participation in fairs and, most importantly, the sales of the varieties of the different breeders at home and abroad. For these efforts, the propagators would receive 50% of the royalty amounts collected by the breeders in Holland and the propagators themselves in case of export.
Father Dré did not like people, but he still liked attention. Uncle Piet, on the other hand, was a very social person who loved a lot of people around him, as long as he was not in the spotlight himself. They married the wrong girls: mother Sien had Uncle Piet’s character and Jo Father Dré’s. Sien cycled around the village, Jo liked to show off her classic Beetle. Uncle Piet found his bride at the same, Protestant side of the village. Father Dré was re-baptized to allow for a marriage with a girl from the enemy side. As a good Catholic he produced four sons and four daughters. Uncle Piet had two sons. Consequently, Father Dré’s house was always full of people, Uncle Piet’s empty, and, as a result, a lot of ‘Dréing’ was done on Sundays. With Father Dré’s sons outnumbering those of Uncle Piet, Dré was ‘Father’ and Piet ‘Uncle’.
Both twins loved driving and big cars. Father Dré liked his Volvo, full of gadgets, Uncle Piet drove Mercedes. Brands for life.
Amsterdam, The Hague and Rotterdam are slowly urbanizing the west of The Netherlands, grabbing bits and pieces of the remaining rural area in their centre: the ‘green heart of Holland’. The Boskoop district forms part of these lungs, with its traditional shrub growing industry. For generations, families carrying their own individual nicknames, have manually worked long stretches of land, 25 meters wide, 400 meters long, surrounded by canals with water levels controlled by windmills. Picturesque, but slowly disappearing by economics, environmental legislation and housing. Benthuizen is part of this district, seeing fruit trees and strawberries after having been pumped dry as polders at the end of the middle ages, surviving turf-for-fuel digging in the following decades, to specialize in rose bushes in the beginning of the twentieth century.
Grandpa Pieter left the Boskoop nursery he worked for, lent some money from an uncle and started his own rose business in 1917, moving his family of nine from a small terrace house to his newly built house at the head of his land in 1932. Changing crops temporarily to potatoes and wheat, the family survived the famines of World War II. After the liberation, roses were put back in and Grandpa Pieter started looking for mutations, new colors that would spontaneously appear in varieties. Shortly after, he started his own pollination, collecting seeds hips, sowing the seeds after winter and selecting seedlings in spring and summer. The breeding had started. His twin sons took over the business in 1962 after a family meeting in which price and payment conditions were decided. The same procedure was followed in 1970, when Father Dré took over the house after Grandpa Pieter’s death. His wife Aaltje had already passed away in 1959. Uncle Piet also wanted to have the parental house, but, with Father Dré being older by a few minutes, he then built his house at the opposite end of the property.
Grandpa Pieter’s orange Deo Volente (1929) and red Hollandia (1961) can still be found in rosaries all over the world. His motto “work differently, think differently and act differently, but work hard” was regularly mentioned, but never adhered to. Office hours were stuck to at all times, even around 1981, when the company was virtually bankrupt. At that period, the twins and their cousin, management assistant Maurice, would be looking out the window, waiting for a potential client or the postman to arrive, hopefully with a cheque. Maurice would then walk out to collect the mail from the box, bring it in, open the envelopes and pass the pile to Father Dré. Father Dré would read everything, put it back in the envelopes and pass it on to Uncle Piet, who would repeat the action. With Maurice, the pattern came full cycle, after which he would distribute the relevant mail to the three pigeon holes for further handling. Letters that were complicated to handle would travel from one pigeon hole to the other to end up, after time went by, in somebody’s drawer.
When I arrived on the scene, the post ritual was adjusted: I would come in after Uncle Piet. At that time, fax had already made its way into the business world and, although they were mighty proud to have this piece of machinery, it degraded the ritual by allowing the more important matters in at random hours. Fax messages would be picked up and put back on the machine if its content begged attention. Maurice would then hole them after some time.
Maurice handled the bookkeeping and cherished the occasional consumer that stopped by to buy a few rose plants. He would walk with them to the far end of the land, to come back after half an hour with some cash that was put away in the little safe behind the portrait of Grandpa Pieter in the little meeting room, whose principal function was to contain all prizes won at competitions over the years. Mrs. Hassefras would come two extra days per year to polish all the medals.
Father Dré truly hated consumers and refused to see them, even if he was the only one present in the office. Every Monday he would complain about consumers ringing the doorbell of his house after having found the office closed on Saturday. Every Monday Maurice would reply that those terrible consumers saved them ten years earlier, enough to have Father Dré shut up.
Father Dré took over the breeding job from his father, Uncle Piet the domestic sales. Since Father Dré spoke German and English and liked combining business and holiday, he also looked after exports. Twice per year he would drive to Finland to take the orders. In the mid eighties, when Witte de Wit’s made its way into the greenhouse market with cut roses and miniature pot roses, Uncle Piet looked after the contacts with the professional propagators: half year old bushes were then made in Limburg and stentlings in specialized greenhouses. Still, Witte de Wit’s were a proud member of V.R.V., Vereniging van Rozen Vermeerderaars, the association of Dutch rose propagators that controlled the business.
V.R.V. organized open houses, participation in fairs and, most importantly, the sales of the varieties of the different breeders at home and abroad. For these efforts, the propagators would receive 50% of the royalty amounts collected by the breeders in Holland and the propagators themselves in case of export.
Father Dré did not like people, but he still liked attention. Uncle Piet, on the other hand, was a very social person who loved a lot of people around him, as long as he was not in the spotlight himself. They married the wrong girls: mother Sien had Uncle Piet’s character and Jo Father Dré’s. Sien cycled around the village, Jo liked to show off her classic Beetle. Uncle Piet found his bride at the same, Protestant side of the village. Father Dré was re-baptized to allow for a marriage with a girl from the enemy side. As a good Catholic he produced four sons and four daughters. Uncle Piet had two sons. Consequently, Father Dré’s house was always full of people, Uncle Piet’s empty, and, as a result, a lot of ‘Dréing’ was done on Sundays. With Father Dré’s sons outnumbering those of Uncle Piet, Dré was ‘Father’ and Piet ‘Uncle’.
Both twins loved driving and big cars. Father Dré liked his Volvo, full of gadgets, Uncle Piet drove Mercedes. Brands for life.
TRUE. today
Walter's message did not really come as a shock. Although the last flowers I had seen were TRUE.ly beautiful again, there did not seem to be any in the last few weeks. I assumed that again there were quality problems. Two days ago, I received photos from Jan Ooms (Roses and Blooms) affirming this: blackening, burnt edges.
Walter, Qualisa's Dutch general manager, told that initially, the measures taken in the production had shown improved quality, but when the weather changed (very low temperatures in the early mornings), the problems had started again. 90% of the flowers were not TRUE. The goal of 50%, set for 1 September next, seems beyond reach. Two years of trying, ups and downs, enthusiasm and disappointment. I feel sorry for the people at the farm, José Luis and his team in the post-harvest, Miss Da Vinci (as we named her) with a big smile holding a bunch of TRUE. roses.
My only hope now is with Excellence in Colombia. The fate of TRUE. in the hands of Pablo and his technical manager Luis Ernesto, the master of red. Their confidence and professionalism prevent me from panicing. Still, I instantly asked them for an update and pictures. Latinos, so I have to be a little patient. Two days, so I will call them tonight.
Walter, Qualisa's Dutch general manager, told that initially, the measures taken in the production had shown improved quality, but when the weather changed (very low temperatures in the early mornings), the problems had started again. 90% of the flowers were not TRUE. The goal of 50%, set for 1 September next, seems beyond reach. Two years of trying, ups and downs, enthusiasm and disappointment. I feel sorry for the people at the farm, José Luis and his team in the post-harvest, Miss Da Vinci (as we named her) with a big smile holding a bunch of TRUE. roses.
My only hope now is with Excellence in Colombia. The fate of TRUE. in the hands of Pablo and his technical manager Luis Ernesto, the master of red. Their confidence and professionalism prevent me from panicing. Still, I instantly asked them for an update and pictures. Latinos, so I have to be a little patient. Two days, so I will call them tonight.
dinsdag 17 juni 2008
TRUE. today
TRUE. beauty inspires. The battery is recharging after taking the flowers outside (see picture) and talking with Manhattan florist Jan Ooms (Roses and Blooms), a TRUE. devotee.
maandag 16 juni 2008
A Rose Story - 3. The Photography Cabinet
Three: the photography cabinet
Although in character Father Dré was very impatient, he still took his time taking me through the agents’ contracts and breeder’s rights forms. In this, Father Dré was an autodidact, he explained. “The only official expert in Holland is Pieter Vos, the lawyer and Secretary of CIOPORA, and then only because I taught him.” Agents’ contracts I could understand, but as for breeder’s rights and CIOPORA I was at a loss. “Think of copyright,” Father Dré started, “with which an author protects his writing, or a patent with which an inventor protects his intellectual property. With breeder’s rights we protect the varieties we invent.” “The application forms for this differ per country and you also need to take detailed photographs.” With the right examples I could handle forms. The announcement of the photographing was disturbing. I once bought a non-automatic camera to see if had the patience for picture taking. I generously offered my first girlfriend to keep the camera after we split up.
Father Dré instantly brought the apparently much more complicated camera out, still in the original box, complete with manual. As if this was not enough, he took me into the greenhouse to demonstrate the set up. “The camera is only two months old. We decided to invest in this. Breeder’s rights are essential to us”, he explained while entering the glasshouse. I felt the responsibility loading itself on my shoulders. Here, he opened an old cupboard next to the entrance to take out a small parcel of sate sticks and a piece of much used oasis, followed by some stained irregular pieces of white polystyrene foam from the top of the fridge in the cool storage. On the table he then demonstrated how to fix the “photography cabinet”, as he called it, using the sticks as nails to hold the pieces of foam together, three sides and a bottom on which the piece of oasis was put. He then entered Section I, cut off a few flowers with the pair of scissors hanging at the head of the bed, and stuck this in the oasis. Dré Junior walked by with a big smile, probably noticing the shocked naivety on my face. He stopped at the head of the bed from which his father took the flower, took the folder and pencil hanging there from a string, opened it and marked something on the list.
“Now, for a Dutch application, we only need a photograph of an open flower. We normally use the commercial picture from the folder. This time we cannot wait for that. For an American Plant Patent things are more complicated.” Then, on a piece of paper and in capital letters he wrote ‘WITTOVINGT’ and placed it at the bottom of the flower. “That is the variety name,” he explained. “All our varieties start with WITT-, followed, in this case by a reference to the breeding code, 89020. The variety name must be unique and is linked to the breeder’s right. Later, we give a commercial name, which needs to be protected by a Benelux trademark, to start with.” I quickly wrote down ‘breeding code’, ‘variety name’ and ‘commercial name’. “The variety name of Leonardo®, for instance, is WITTDRIKO. We secretly named it after the three brothers that were the first to plant it: Wim, Han and Peter Tulp, the ‘drie koningen’, three kings of the rose business. They do not know this. They are our most important customers, the first to plant Eva® and the first with Leonardo®.”
The photography cabinet did not have any lighting additions, so pictures had to be taken on bright days to get the true colors. Looking at WITTOVINGT, I understood that a change of light would change the variety, which had a mix of pink, salmon and yellow. Father Dré had cut off flowers in three opening stages: tight, half open and open. He arranged them in the foam in such a way, that they were all slightly facing the camera. The variety had plenty of big and undamaged leaves, so we did not have to ‘polish up the variety’ by adding or replacing leaves. To my relief, Dré put the camera on ‘automatic’, took some shots and so did I.
Afterwards, I brought the film to the local drugstore that had a development service. “Normally we photograph more varieties at the same time, but this time we have to be quick to send in the application, “ Dré had said when I asked him why we only used part of the film.
Although in character Father Dré was very impatient, he still took his time taking me through the agents’ contracts and breeder’s rights forms. In this, Father Dré was an autodidact, he explained. “The only official expert in Holland is Pieter Vos, the lawyer and Secretary of CIOPORA, and then only because I taught him.” Agents’ contracts I could understand, but as for breeder’s rights and CIOPORA I was at a loss. “Think of copyright,” Father Dré started, “with which an author protects his writing, or a patent with which an inventor protects his intellectual property. With breeder’s rights we protect the varieties we invent.” “The application forms for this differ per country and you also need to take detailed photographs.” With the right examples I could handle forms. The announcement of the photographing was disturbing. I once bought a non-automatic camera to see if had the patience for picture taking. I generously offered my first girlfriend to keep the camera after we split up.
Father Dré instantly brought the apparently much more complicated camera out, still in the original box, complete with manual. As if this was not enough, he took me into the greenhouse to demonstrate the set up. “The camera is only two months old. We decided to invest in this. Breeder’s rights are essential to us”, he explained while entering the glasshouse. I felt the responsibility loading itself on my shoulders. Here, he opened an old cupboard next to the entrance to take out a small parcel of sate sticks and a piece of much used oasis, followed by some stained irregular pieces of white polystyrene foam from the top of the fridge in the cool storage. On the table he then demonstrated how to fix the “photography cabinet”, as he called it, using the sticks as nails to hold the pieces of foam together, three sides and a bottom on which the piece of oasis was put. He then entered Section I, cut off a few flowers with the pair of scissors hanging at the head of the bed, and stuck this in the oasis. Dré Junior walked by with a big smile, probably noticing the shocked naivety on my face. He stopped at the head of the bed from which his father took the flower, took the folder and pencil hanging there from a string, opened it and marked something on the list.
“Now, for a Dutch application, we only need a photograph of an open flower. We normally use the commercial picture from the folder. This time we cannot wait for that. For an American Plant Patent things are more complicated.” Then, on a piece of paper and in capital letters he wrote ‘WITTOVINGT’ and placed it at the bottom of the flower. “That is the variety name,” he explained. “All our varieties start with WITT-, followed, in this case by a reference to the breeding code, 89020. The variety name must be unique and is linked to the breeder’s right. Later, we give a commercial name, which needs to be protected by a Benelux trademark, to start with.” I quickly wrote down ‘breeding code’, ‘variety name’ and ‘commercial name’. “The variety name of Leonardo®, for instance, is WITTDRIKO. We secretly named it after the three brothers that were the first to plant it: Wim, Han and Peter Tulp, the ‘drie koningen’, three kings of the rose business. They do not know this. They are our most important customers, the first to plant Eva® and the first with Leonardo®.”
The photography cabinet did not have any lighting additions, so pictures had to be taken on bright days to get the true colors. Looking at WITTOVINGT, I understood that a change of light would change the variety, which had a mix of pink, salmon and yellow. Father Dré had cut off flowers in three opening stages: tight, half open and open. He arranged them in the foam in such a way, that they were all slightly facing the camera. The variety had plenty of big and undamaged leaves, so we did not have to ‘polish up the variety’ by adding or replacing leaves. To my relief, Dré put the camera on ‘automatic’, took some shots and so did I.
Afterwards, I brought the film to the local drugstore that had a development service. “Normally we photograph more varieties at the same time, but this time we have to be quick to send in the application, “ Dré had said when I asked him why we only used part of the film.
TRUE. today
The flowers look beautiful today. I feel disappointed, I realize. That is absurd. I have been struggling for two years now, I should be pleased, more than pleased. But I am tired, tired of constantly being enthusiastic, tired of picking up the pieces with a smile time after time, tired of bad flower quality, tired of the malfunctioning supply chain. Have I given up on my dream? No, I still believe in the variety, I still believe in the brand, but after having had to recharge my battery so often, it seems to have died.
I knew from the start that it was not going to be easy. Pioneering in a super-conservative industry. What seems logical for others is revolutionary in the flower business: giving the consumer value for money, giving a potential beautiful product the contents it deserves.
When I set out on my trek I had my grandfather's memoirs in my drawer and started to use his drawing pad to keep my own diary, my TRUE. story. Underlining the successes, as my friend Wilma had advised, and reading back at times of setback. Inspirational, indeed, like my grandfather's life story of perseverence and tapping your talents, even when turning blind after having lost your soulmate after 60 years. 'Who am I to complain?', used to be my regular reaction. But not today.
On http://www.true-rose.com/ there is an interview with me in which Job of KesselsKramer calls me 'the father of the TRUE. rose'. Today I realize a deeper meaning to this. A father is never relieved from the care of his child. I have four, I should have known. Today, I have five. I have an innate moral and emotional duty to look after it, to guide it to maturity.
Instead of adding this to my grandfather's drawing pad and publish it at a later stage, I chose to blog it instantly, start a new chapter as a true father. The TRUE. father.
I knew from the start that it was not going to be easy. Pioneering in a super-conservative industry. What seems logical for others is revolutionary in the flower business: giving the consumer value for money, giving a potential beautiful product the contents it deserves.
When I set out on my trek I had my grandfather's memoirs in my drawer and started to use his drawing pad to keep my own diary, my TRUE. story. Underlining the successes, as my friend Wilma had advised, and reading back at times of setback. Inspirational, indeed, like my grandfather's life story of perseverence and tapping your talents, even when turning blind after having lost your soulmate after 60 years. 'Who am I to complain?', used to be my regular reaction. But not today.
On http://www.true-rose.com/ there is an interview with me in which Job of KesselsKramer calls me 'the father of the TRUE. rose'. Today I realize a deeper meaning to this. A father is never relieved from the care of his child. I have four, I should have known. Today, I have five. I have an innate moral and emotional duty to look after it, to guide it to maturity.
Instead of adding this to my grandfather's drawing pad and publish it at a later stage, I chose to blog it instantly, start a new chapter as a true father. The TRUE. father.
dinsdag 20 mei 2008
the TRUE. story
July 2006: water plants
In the meantime, the plants of rose 03829 had been under water for some time, when parts of the Bogota Valley flooded. I had taken over the available plants from Preesman, 4 in Holland (planted in my garden), 25 from their showcase in Colombia and 25 from Ecuador. They were finally planted with Qualisa in Cayambe (Ecuador) and Ipanema (el Rosal, north of Bogota).
Before I started my big quest, I had already decided that the flowers had to be grown around the equator, at an altitude of some 2,500 metres. Why? A branded product must have the optimal quality year-round. After a hot summer in e.g. Holland, the flower heads will be smaller in the fall. So: no seasonal influences. To spread the risk, I wanted to be in two locations. I had known Ipanema and Qualisa as very disciplided growers and both immediately said yes to my proposal. In addition, the traditional route for Latin flowers was to North America. Through Miami, but that was on my list of changes in the supply chain.
Anyway, the plants arrived in bad condition at both farms, but I was confident that the ingenieros would revive them.
In the meantime, the plants of rose 03829 had been under water for some time, when parts of the Bogota Valley flooded. I had taken over the available plants from Preesman, 4 in Holland (planted in my garden), 25 from their showcase in Colombia and 25 from Ecuador. They were finally planted with Qualisa in Cayambe (Ecuador) and Ipanema (el Rosal, north of Bogota).
Before I started my big quest, I had already decided that the flowers had to be grown around the equator, at an altitude of some 2,500 metres. Why? A branded product must have the optimal quality year-round. After a hot summer in e.g. Holland, the flower heads will be smaller in the fall. So: no seasonal influences. To spread the risk, I wanted to be in two locations. I had known Ipanema and Qualisa as very disciplided growers and both immediately said yes to my proposal. In addition, the traditional route for Latin flowers was to North America. Through Miami, but that was on my list of changes in the supply chain.
Anyway, the plants arrived in bad condition at both farms, but I was confident that the ingenieros would revive them.
the TRUE. story
June 2006: true friends
My dream had been to launch a consumer brand for flowers in the U.S., but how realistic was this? I had prepared my plan, applied for the trademark 'Da Vinci Rose' (another lifelong fascination), prepared a presentation, googled addresses of florists and flower wholesalers and left for the Big Apple. Budget-aware, that is: I learnt that a lot can be saved by researching flight and hotel possibilities. For this last, Red Carpet Inn in Brooklyn, across the street from a subway stop, was to be my basis.
I met with plenty of skepticism, but also shared enthusiasm: Jan and Janny Ooms of Roses and Blooms, Bob Janmaat of 1800Flowers (wishing to take over the whole concept) and, for the PR part, David Carras and Sally Ferguson. Whereas other advertising agencies threatened to charge $ 20,000 for a first meeting, Sally and David (already working for the Dutch flowerbulb industry) were different.
Sally and David had done their preparation and in persistent questioning over the next few months managed to specify my picture of the brand. It should be up-market. It should not be 'Da Vinci Rose'. Away with the logo, business cards and oil paintings I had had made in China. Away with my vision of the website starting with my alternative genesis, from the creation of Adam (Michelangelo) to Da Vinci's drawings of submarines, plants, rose bushes, the Da Vinci Rose. Voice-over by Sean Connery (a third lifelong adoration), who I had actually written for the job. Luckily he did not apply. The Chinese paintings I will still frame and put on the wall, later.
When I started to trust Sally and David, they came to the conclusion that they were not the specialists I was looking for. We had not even started talking about money.
the TRUE. story
28 April 2006 - stop and start
My last day at Preesman in Preesman style: hectic and arranged at the last minute. I had taken over the lease car and, more importantly, obtained rose variety 03829 of which I took the following picture in Ecuador in 2002. I knew that it was difficult to grow, but would fit my purposes as I knew that all flowers opened and lasted.
A Rose Story - 2. Hare in the Elzas
Two: hare in the Elzas
Mid-page I stopped writing. I was completely lost. Since neither Father Dré nor Uncle Piet could speak French, the conversation with Monsieur Schmidt had been in German. Father Dré was there with his wife Sien, Mother Sien. Since they would drive on to the south in their big Volvo for a holiday, we had come in two cars. Monsieur Schmidt was a chain smoking gentleman, a true French host who, in anticipation, had had a special dinner prepared in a special restaurant. He was joined at the table by his (apparently new) girlfriend. There were different wines with every course, highlighted by hare that had been sated for several days. Since I was the youngest, I was served extra of everything. When finally I found myself in a big bed in a small hotel, I was drunk with the wines, the role of ‘commercial assistant’ and the dead hare. I did not sleep at all.
The next day, shortly after we said goodbye to our charming host and Father Dré and Sien set off in the opposite direction, I made my confession to Uncle Piet. “I must be honest with you, Piet, but this is not going to work out. I do not think I am the right person for the job. I have absolutely no clue what the discussion was about. The only thing I understood is that Monsieur Schmidt is looking to sell his business.” Nothing would ever disturb Uncle Piet, as I was to find out over the years, very unlike his twin. “Don’t worry,” he reacted, with his charming smile underneath his small grey moustache.
At the first coffee stop he started drawing different types of rose plants, and explaining how, where and when these were made in order to produce cut flowers in glasshouses. Half-year-old bushes were made by the millions in the province of Limburg in the south of Holland, using Inermis rootstock that came from the north east of the country, that were planted in rows in the field. After some time, an ‘eye’ of the flower producing variety was stuck on. The ‘eye’, Uncle Piet explained, can be found in every ‘socket’, the place where the leaf was connected to the stem. The new types of plants starting to be used were cuttings, in which the stems of the flower producing variety were cut in pieces to form their own roots and stentlings, in which part of the wild rootstock and a little part of the cut flower variety were stuck together. This was beyond my grasp.
Strange that one’s life can be 100% revolved in two days’ time: from teacher to student again. I was extremely fortunate to have Uncle Piet as a professor, calling it a day after this first lecture. I could have hugged him for stopping. I kept these plant drawings in my desk for years as a buoy on the wild sea of roses.
Mid-page I stopped writing. I was completely lost. Since neither Father Dré nor Uncle Piet could speak French, the conversation with Monsieur Schmidt had been in German. Father Dré was there with his wife Sien, Mother Sien. Since they would drive on to the south in their big Volvo for a holiday, we had come in two cars. Monsieur Schmidt was a chain smoking gentleman, a true French host who, in anticipation, had had a special dinner prepared in a special restaurant. He was joined at the table by his (apparently new) girlfriend. There were different wines with every course, highlighted by hare that had been sated for several days. Since I was the youngest, I was served extra of everything. When finally I found myself in a big bed in a small hotel, I was drunk with the wines, the role of ‘commercial assistant’ and the dead hare. I did not sleep at all.
The next day, shortly after we said goodbye to our charming host and Father Dré and Sien set off in the opposite direction, I made my confession to Uncle Piet. “I must be honest with you, Piet, but this is not going to work out. I do not think I am the right person for the job. I have absolutely no clue what the discussion was about. The only thing I understood is that Monsieur Schmidt is looking to sell his business.” Nothing would ever disturb Uncle Piet, as I was to find out over the years, very unlike his twin. “Don’t worry,” he reacted, with his charming smile underneath his small grey moustache.
At the first coffee stop he started drawing different types of rose plants, and explaining how, where and when these were made in order to produce cut flowers in glasshouses. Half-year-old bushes were made by the millions in the province of Limburg in the south of Holland, using Inermis rootstock that came from the north east of the country, that were planted in rows in the field. After some time, an ‘eye’ of the flower producing variety was stuck on. The ‘eye’, Uncle Piet explained, can be found in every ‘socket’, the place where the leaf was connected to the stem. The new types of plants starting to be used were cuttings, in which the stems of the flower producing variety were cut in pieces to form their own roots and stentlings, in which part of the wild rootstock and a little part of the cut flower variety were stuck together. This was beyond my grasp.
Strange that one’s life can be 100% revolved in two days’ time: from teacher to student again. I was extremely fortunate to have Uncle Piet as a professor, calling it a day after this first lecture. I could have hugged him for stopping. I kept these plant drawings in my desk for years as a buoy on the wild sea of roses.
maandag 12 mei 2008
the TRUE. story
28 February 2006: the dream
March 2006, Bogotá. At long last, Preesman would have its first (and last) Open House at the Marinyanna Farm in Colombia. Coinciding were two gerbera seminars at the farm and in Medellin, for which the Dutch specialist Erik Kuiper and the new manager for Latin America, Avinash Mokate, of Indian origin, were flown in. One of the first nights, in the hotel in Bogotá, I woke up dreaming. I realized that the dream was different, appearing symbolical, and decided to write it down. Then the alarm woke me up. I read: “Again in a canoe in the canal next to Opa’s former house, this time returning to collect the last blue plant.”
Before I finished showering, the meaning of this message was clear to me and my mind made up: I would start my own marketing business to launch a consumer brand for roses.
Explain. My grandfather, Opa Jan, has been my great example in life. Born in 1892, as a teenager he would work extra in the moonlight at the farm of Mr. Elsgeest. The extra money earned was saved by Elsgeest’s daughter Koosje, his first and only love and thus kept out of the hands of his alcoholic father. After their marriage, Mr. Elsgeest lent my Opa some money to start his own bulb and chrysanthemum nursery.
Their firstborn died after a year’s sickness, another drowned as a toddler in the canal in front of the house. Twelve boys, one girl, nearly fatal cancer and two wars later, they bid farewell to three emigrating sons. Opa formed a flower firm with three of his sons, the youngest dropping dead at his feet, just married, his wife pregnant. Opa sat in his chair for a day, staring with his coat still on, hands still dirty from harvesting the flowers. Then he dragged himself up, held his wife, whispering “Koosje, we must move on. We must.”
And he did, working every day with one of the sons after the firm broke up. They travelled to Australia to visit their sons and families and celebrated their golden wedding. Opa stopped working when he was 80 to look after Oma Koosje, who had started to suffer from Alzheimer’s disease. “She has looked after me all her life. Now it’s my turn,” he explained. He learned how to cook, do the laundry and other household chores. He picked up drawing as a hobby, childish at first, but very realistic later on. People he found difficult to draw, but his animals and especially flowers were beautiful. Oma died peacefully, one week before their 60th wedding anniversary. Opa had lit a candle, held her hand. Together they had prayed a Saint Mary. He had felt her last heartbeat, closed her eyes and then slept by her side.
He then set to writing his memoirs and when he became blind at 90, the light disappearing from his beautiful blue eyes, he started to play the harmonica. “Just go on,” he would say, “see what you can do instead of what you can’t.” Soon he would be playing all sorts of popular songs. A year later, he had an eye operation. “Look,” he said, after the bandage had been removed, “look at the carpet”. I looked down, but there was nothing to see. “Look at the colors. Fantastic!” He gave me the gold watch that Mr. Elsgeest gave him for his engagement. I cherish it, but even more his lessons. “Go on. Discover what you can do, don’t look back.”
The canal by his house. No doubt in my dream I was peddling forward in life when I was reminded of my exemplary Opa with his eyes reflected in the delicate blue plant. The plant itself an opportunity to be seized, a talent to be tapped before it was too late. The message was clear: I had been thinking about starting my own business for 15 years and introducing a rose brand for 10 years. The time had come.
March 2006, Bogotá. At long last, Preesman would have its first (and last) Open House at the Marinyanna Farm in Colombia. Coinciding were two gerbera seminars at the farm and in Medellin, for which the Dutch specialist Erik Kuiper and the new manager for Latin America, Avinash Mokate, of Indian origin, were flown in. One of the first nights, in the hotel in Bogotá, I woke up dreaming. I realized that the dream was different, appearing symbolical, and decided to write it down. Then the alarm woke me up. I read: “Again in a canoe in the canal next to Opa’s former house, this time returning to collect the last blue plant.”
Before I finished showering, the meaning of this message was clear to me and my mind made up: I would start my own marketing business to launch a consumer brand for roses.
Explain. My grandfather, Opa Jan, has been my great example in life. Born in 1892, as a teenager he would work extra in the moonlight at the farm of Mr. Elsgeest. The extra money earned was saved by Elsgeest’s daughter Koosje, his first and only love and thus kept out of the hands of his alcoholic father. After their marriage, Mr. Elsgeest lent my Opa some money to start his own bulb and chrysanthemum nursery.
Their firstborn died after a year’s sickness, another drowned as a toddler in the canal in front of the house. Twelve boys, one girl, nearly fatal cancer and two wars later, they bid farewell to three emigrating sons. Opa formed a flower firm with three of his sons, the youngest dropping dead at his feet, just married, his wife pregnant. Opa sat in his chair for a day, staring with his coat still on, hands still dirty from harvesting the flowers. Then he dragged himself up, held his wife, whispering “Koosje, we must move on. We must.”
And he did, working every day with one of the sons after the firm broke up. They travelled to Australia to visit their sons and families and celebrated their golden wedding. Opa stopped working when he was 80 to look after Oma Koosje, who had started to suffer from Alzheimer’s disease. “She has looked after me all her life. Now it’s my turn,” he explained. He learned how to cook, do the laundry and other household chores. He picked up drawing as a hobby, childish at first, but very realistic later on. People he found difficult to draw, but his animals and especially flowers were beautiful. Oma died peacefully, one week before their 60th wedding anniversary. Opa had lit a candle, held her hand. Together they had prayed a Saint Mary. He had felt her last heartbeat, closed her eyes and then slept by her side.
He then set to writing his memoirs and when he became blind at 90, the light disappearing from his beautiful blue eyes, he started to play the harmonica. “Just go on,” he would say, “see what you can do instead of what you can’t.” Soon he would be playing all sorts of popular songs. A year later, he had an eye operation. “Look,” he said, after the bandage had been removed, “look at the carpet”. I looked down, but there was nothing to see. “Look at the colors. Fantastic!” He gave me the gold watch that Mr. Elsgeest gave him for his engagement. I cherish it, but even more his lessons. “Go on. Discover what you can do, don’t look back.”
The canal by his house. No doubt in my dream I was peddling forward in life when I was reminded of my exemplary Opa with his eyes reflected in the delicate blue plant. The plant itself an opportunity to be seized, a talent to be tapped before it was too late. The message was clear: I had been thinking about starting my own business for 15 years and introducing a rose brand for 10 years. The time had come.
A Rose Story - 1. Coming Out
One: coming out
“They’re coming out!” Maurice comes in, excited. I had been on phone-duty after a brief instruction earlier that morning, so I could not go out. I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea whatsoever. At 34, desperate for change, I ended up at Witte de Wit’s Nieuwe Rozen B.V. in a tiny village in the center of Holland, some glasshouses and a small office, two brothers on the verge of retirement and their cousin Maurice, management assistant for 25 years. A fourth desk was fitted in. Luckily the computer age had yet to start. In 1990, they were modern with fax and electric typewriter.
Just before lunchtime--Maurice was out at lunchtime, so I had to be in--I walked into the glasshouse to find out what the excitement was about. I made my acquaintance with the guys looking after the place. It seemed everybody was called Witte de Wit. The glasshouse turned out to consist of four different sections, the one to the left apparently the most valuable or secret, as it was closed off by an extra lock, operated with a code. Only after a year or so was I included into the fellowship of code-knowers of, what turned out to be, the house with the parents subjected to crossings. Until that time, I could enter with one of the code-holders or peek through the window.
I was informed of the code to the central entrance of the greenhouse within a week: X1234. The entrance area contained some tables for, as I found out months later, seed cleaning and sowing, with two small cold stores and a room containing vases with flowers. To the right, you first entered an area with flower beds to the left and right with roses in all kinds of colors. They were not planted in soil, but in, what Ben, Uncle Piet’s youngest son, said, “rockwool”, some creamy hairy looking stuff in long loafs. Months later I was surprised to learn that the name for this material should really be taken literally. This was Section II.
The next compartment contained big aluminum tables full of miniature rose varieties in pots. Some were flowering, others were not and here two guys were cutting off the stems of the pots on some of the tables, putting the stems in different little plastic bags, each containing a tag with a number. The last two sections, IV and V, had similar tables, but holding bigger trays with turf, from which here and there tiny plants were appearing. “One section for pot roses and the last for cut roses, as you can see,” my guide informed me. I could not tell the difference.
Upon returning to the office, Maurice immediately asked “Did you see them? What do you think?” Assuming he referred to the rockwool section with the big roses, I answered that I found the variety of colors spectacular. Later, Dré Junior, Father Dré’s youngest son would say to Alex, no son, “I hope that Maurice will be busy enough counting money not to put in too many sticks this time.” In the course of the next weeks I found out, that the excitement was in the last two sections with ‘seedlings’ and that a limited number of staff were privileged to take part in the ‘selection’ by putting their own-colored sticks next to their favorite seedlings. Maurice’ sticks were pink, Dré Junior’s’ blue and Father Dré’s were yellow—but, Junior and Alex would comment, “Colors and sticks are sacrificed, except for the blacks, on a Dréing Sunday.” Black was the color of Sjef.
Sjef would arrive once per week in his black BMW to make his selections and discuss the exact mixture of the ingredients in the ‘A’ and ‘B’ containers. My last bit of romantic preoccupation in the growing of roses was killed by the addition of this chemical formula to the well-being of the plants. Only the rain water that was collected from the top of the glasshouse and contained under the concrete floors of the different glasshouse sections seemed to be the only influence of nature. Even the light and darkness was manipulated by big lamps (‘5000 LUX light assimilation’) hanging over the crops. Strict environmental legislation ruled that no drop of water was allowed to enter the soil or surrounding canals and even the condense water from the inside of the glass was to be collected separately from the rest. All water used in the greenhouse was filtered and recirculated. At regular intervals the place was officially inspected. The rain water had another use: 72-year old Mrs. Hassefras, who came in every Friday afternoon to clean the office, swore by rain water and rain water only to clean the windows and rest of the building. On Monday mornings Maurice would pour chloride in the toilets. Mrs. Hassefras refused to use any kind of detergent. After 30 years of service nobody dared to change her mind, let stand fire her.
After leaving the glass world of fake nature and chemicals, I was happy my job was in the office. After the bizarre job interview and the outcome that I was hired, it was decided that my function was ‘commercial staff’. With the retirement of the twin brothers in two years, I would take over the international business, breeder’s rights and contracts from Father Dré. In due course a new breeder would be hired to replace Father Dré’s role in the greenhouse and likewise for the successor of Uncle Piet as contact for the clients in Holland. Maurice then would take over the throne as the next Witte de Wit. Since I spoke a few languages and was a quiet person, they thought I would be fit for the job of ‘commercial staff'.
It turned out to be the first job interview the brothers had ever done and instead of getting a better picture of the business, I walked out in a daze, only to be completely baffled to hear from them a week later that they wanted to make me an offer. But I was dying to get out of my teaching job and in the highlight of the economic depression, one could not be picky.
My start with the company two days earlier coincided with a planned trip to the Elzas, to see Monsieur Paul Schmidt, the agent for France, Italy, Greece and the Middle East. On the agenda was a new agent’s contract. On Monday I was explaining English grammar in a cloud of chalk, on Tuesday at 6.00 a.m., I was in the Mercedes of Uncle Piet, clad in suit and raincoat, armed with pen and notebook, making my way into the world of roses.
“They’re coming out!” Maurice comes in, excited. I had been on phone-duty after a brief instruction earlier that morning, so I could not go out. I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea whatsoever. At 34, desperate for change, I ended up at Witte de Wit’s Nieuwe Rozen B.V. in a tiny village in the center of Holland, some glasshouses and a small office, two brothers on the verge of retirement and their cousin Maurice, management assistant for 25 years. A fourth desk was fitted in. Luckily the computer age had yet to start. In 1990, they were modern with fax and electric typewriter.
Just before lunchtime--Maurice was out at lunchtime, so I had to be in--I walked into the glasshouse to find out what the excitement was about. I made my acquaintance with the guys looking after the place. It seemed everybody was called Witte de Wit. The glasshouse turned out to consist of four different sections, the one to the left apparently the most valuable or secret, as it was closed off by an extra lock, operated with a code. Only after a year or so was I included into the fellowship of code-knowers of, what turned out to be, the house with the parents subjected to crossings. Until that time, I could enter with one of the code-holders or peek through the window.
I was informed of the code to the central entrance of the greenhouse within a week: X1234. The entrance area contained some tables for, as I found out months later, seed cleaning and sowing, with two small cold stores and a room containing vases with flowers. To the right, you first entered an area with flower beds to the left and right with roses in all kinds of colors. They were not planted in soil, but in, what Ben, Uncle Piet’s youngest son, said, “rockwool”, some creamy hairy looking stuff in long loafs. Months later I was surprised to learn that the name for this material should really be taken literally. This was Section II.
The next compartment contained big aluminum tables full of miniature rose varieties in pots. Some were flowering, others were not and here two guys were cutting off the stems of the pots on some of the tables, putting the stems in different little plastic bags, each containing a tag with a number. The last two sections, IV and V, had similar tables, but holding bigger trays with turf, from which here and there tiny plants were appearing. “One section for pot roses and the last for cut roses, as you can see,” my guide informed me. I could not tell the difference.
Upon returning to the office, Maurice immediately asked “Did you see them? What do you think?” Assuming he referred to the rockwool section with the big roses, I answered that I found the variety of colors spectacular. Later, Dré Junior, Father Dré’s youngest son would say to Alex, no son, “I hope that Maurice will be busy enough counting money not to put in too many sticks this time.” In the course of the next weeks I found out, that the excitement was in the last two sections with ‘seedlings’ and that a limited number of staff were privileged to take part in the ‘selection’ by putting their own-colored sticks next to their favorite seedlings. Maurice’ sticks were pink, Dré Junior’s’ blue and Father Dré’s were yellow—but, Junior and Alex would comment, “Colors and sticks are sacrificed, except for the blacks, on a Dréing Sunday.” Black was the color of Sjef.
Sjef would arrive once per week in his black BMW to make his selections and discuss the exact mixture of the ingredients in the ‘A’ and ‘B’ containers. My last bit of romantic preoccupation in the growing of roses was killed by the addition of this chemical formula to the well-being of the plants. Only the rain water that was collected from the top of the glasshouse and contained under the concrete floors of the different glasshouse sections seemed to be the only influence of nature. Even the light and darkness was manipulated by big lamps (‘5000 LUX light assimilation’) hanging over the crops. Strict environmental legislation ruled that no drop of water was allowed to enter the soil or surrounding canals and even the condense water from the inside of the glass was to be collected separately from the rest. All water used in the greenhouse was filtered and recirculated. At regular intervals the place was officially inspected. The rain water had another use: 72-year old Mrs. Hassefras, who came in every Friday afternoon to clean the office, swore by rain water and rain water only to clean the windows and rest of the building. On Monday mornings Maurice would pour chloride in the toilets. Mrs. Hassefras refused to use any kind of detergent. After 30 years of service nobody dared to change her mind, let stand fire her.
After leaving the glass world of fake nature and chemicals, I was happy my job was in the office. After the bizarre job interview and the outcome that I was hired, it was decided that my function was ‘commercial staff’. With the retirement of the twin brothers in two years, I would take over the international business, breeder’s rights and contracts from Father Dré. In due course a new breeder would be hired to replace Father Dré’s role in the greenhouse and likewise for the successor of Uncle Piet as contact for the clients in Holland. Maurice then would take over the throne as the next Witte de Wit. Since I spoke a few languages and was a quiet person, they thought I would be fit for the job of ‘commercial staff'.
It turned out to be the first job interview the brothers had ever done and instead of getting a better picture of the business, I walked out in a daze, only to be completely baffled to hear from them a week later that they wanted to make me an offer. But I was dying to get out of my teaching job and in the highlight of the economic depression, one could not be picky.
My start with the company two days earlier coincided with a planned trip to the Elzas, to see Monsieur Paul Schmidt, the agent for France, Italy, Greece and the Middle East. On the agenda was a new agent’s contract. On Monday I was explaining English grammar in a cloud of chalk, on Tuesday at 6.00 a.m., I was in the Mercedes of Uncle Piet, clad in suit and raincoat, armed with pen and notebook, making my way into the world of roses.
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